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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26404003">Halfway</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RRScrabbles/pseuds/RRScrabbles'>RRScrabbles</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>BrightWins, เพราะเราคู่กัน | 2gether: The Series (Thailand TV) RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Drama &amp; Romance, Loving Marriage, M/M, Mutual Pining</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:28:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,686</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26404003</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RRScrabbles/pseuds/RRScrabbles</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Win plans his dream wedding with his favorite scheme of colors, things, and people. However, it's only his dream for it's the reality of Bright. The one who will get married to someone who isn't him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bright Vachirawit Chivaaree/Win Metawin Opas-iamkajorn, Off Jumpol Adulkittiporn/Gun Atthaphan Phunsawat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Of Waiting and Coming Home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a socmed AU we made in Twitter! Just posting in here to save it and maybe add some special chapters or so once we finished it. The following chapters are a collection of vignettes starting from when they became friends up until the present time. Sorry for grammatical errors and stuff! Thank you for reading tho in advance and please do enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Scouts are agile. Scouts are alert. Scouts are headstrong. I’m not one. I don’t want to because for Pete’s sake, I’m thirteen and I want to enjoy reading than getting soaked with my own sweat every day! But, my mother must have been hit by Hazel’s, my favorite character in Percy Jackson books, mist. That’s why she’s seeing a more perfect version of me instead of the real me that is only good for nothing, well, physically. I hate moving my limbs, and because I hate it, it’s all the more reason to let me join in on this summer camp and become what she envisioned me as—<em>a</em> <em>scout.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>As one, I’m obliged to act fierce and do the trainings with my comrades. Except that my comrades don’t want to mingle with a weakling like me so, I’m all by myself. Alone when eating at the far corner of the table. Alone cleaning the room in the mornings, the reason I’m disciplined most of the time for being late in doing the warm up exercises, because my roommates left all the work to me, sadly. And, alone venturing the strange forest we ought to scour on and about.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alone for they always leave me behind.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Like right now. In the middle of nowhere. The enormous, thick, dark green trees are looming over me. As if their shadows are succumbing me alive. My only consolation in this godforsaken situation I’m in, are the circling glowing fireflies around me, making me feel like they’re my tiny friends; giving me the comfort I didn’t know I needed. As I sit here on the muddy ground, not minding the mosquitos that are feasting on my reddening skin or my incessantly grumbling stomach, I begin to count.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>One. Two. Three.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Someone will come for me.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>On repeat. Then nothing happens. No one materialized in front of me.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>No one but this gasping for air, must be from his running, noob who shooed the mosquitos away by hardly slapping my arms. This noob who’s the exact definition of what a scout should be. This noob who sticks with me even though he’s warned not to. This noob who became my first true friend. The only boy ever to never miss any chance of staying away from me.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The only one who never leaves me.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><strong>“Ouch, Bright! That hurts! Stop it!”</strong> I said as I stood up to face him. He worryingly eyed me from head to toe and then he grabs my hanging arms. His hands are so warm. Suddenly, the same gesture I got from my tiny friends pales in comparison to this homely feeling from his touch that my skin unconsciously welcomed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><strong>“But, there are still some that’s sucking your blood! Win, oh my god! Your lips are now white! Oh my god, what to do? There’s no hospital here at the mountain! Oh my god! Don’t die on me!”</strong> He responded while shaking my arms that I had to stop him before I get dizzy. I forgot, that this noob is also a drama king.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><strong>“Stop panicking! I’m fine! Bright, I’m not dying! It’s just mosquito bites! Why did you come for me anyway? Aren’t your squad winning the game? You might lose because you’re here!”</strong> I do appreciate him finding me but it’s not enough reason to ditch his competitive squad. For me. I don’t want them to question his integrity and attitude in winning. I don’t want anyone to even hurt this noob who just smirks at me like he doesn’t care about anything but me. Me who is now blushing to his next words.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><strong>“They might. But I’m not. I did find you, right?”</strong> Indeed. He finds me every time and after saying that he’ll graciously smile at me like this.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Like usual, I find myself unable to speak. To look at him in the eyes. To grin in return. And so, I did what I’m good at. Swerving the wheel.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><strong>“What’s that got to do with you not losing?”</strong> The air is chilly it freezes the plants, this moment, and my heart for what he decided best to drop callously.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><strong>“Well, having you! Thou victor of all! Win Metawin! It’s in your name, duh!”</strong> Then my heart beats again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><strong>“Seriously, Win. Finding you is the greatest game I ever won in my life. Because I gained a best friend! So don’t worry, I didn’t lose anything in a sense.”</strong> Then it stops at the word <em>friend. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Why?</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I look at him now to answer what’s bugging me only for my confusion to increase.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Why do I feel like this?</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>My stupor was disrupted by him turning me to the side.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><strong>“Now, let’s go! If you won’t die in mosquito bites then I am! Run faster so you won’t lose to me again!”</strong> He yelled at me then he started running.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Why is he glowing dazzlingly than the fireflies in my eyes?</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><strong>“Hey, you’re the one who’s losing to me at everything tss. I’ll let you win this, because you might cry later on!”</strong> I’m the one who will cry if I don’t solve this enigma he has given me to think over. So I tried to catch up with him, few meters away that I see his back form, eyebrows knitted closely—close—his face is too close from mine, that our lips almost brush each other. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Because he halted to ineffectively one-up me. <strong>“Oh really? Surpass me then, Win!”</strong></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Why is his taunting alluring to hear?</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>“Hey, Bright! Wait up!”</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Why am I trying this diligently to keep up with him?</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Why?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Why am I here still waiting like a scout at the ready, in the front porch of his house, even though he said I don’t need to?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Why, in this kind of cold weather, I still firmly insisted to wait for him like a stubborn scout?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Why am I still waiting for him like a scout determined for him to know that I love him, even though he loves someone else?</p>
<p> </p>
<p><strong>“Hey, ha, Bf! Why—are you still, ha, here?”</strong> Because like the perfect scout that he is, he always come for me no matter what. No matter what state he’s in like before, like now. He’s still panting after a lengthy run. He’ll still grab my arms—there goes his warmth, I missed this. And he will be like the drama king that he was.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><strong>“It’s freaking ice-cold here outside! Oh my god, Bf! You’ll turn into one of those porcelain statues!”</strong> He still is, I guess.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><strong>“You came.”</strong> I can’t move my lips, was I freezing?</p>
<p> </p>
<p><strong>“Of course! Duh, I’ll always find and go to you!”</strong> I can’t feel my heart again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><strong>“You’re my best friend! Since the beginning and until now that I’m back! So, let’s go inside my car! Love said to bring you there at Elysium!”</strong> It beats and stops again at the word <em>friend.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Unlike before I won’t ask why. I already have an answer for my questions for a while back so I pulled him into a hug instead.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>So warm. So snug. So him.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>“You came.”</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And like my counting, this became my mantra as he enveloped me in his arms. I feel him nodding against my left shoulder.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>“I’m home.”</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He is. He came for me.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That’s why even if the bus departed for our every field trip in school without us, even if I’m punished for being late together with him as well, and even if he will take thousands of years to finish what he’s doing, I’d still wait for him for countless of times.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Because who wouldn’t wait for someone who always ensures to come for you? </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He may be too early or too late, all that matters is, he will and still come. This is why I kept up with him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>For I’m waiting while he’s running ahead of me, stopping if I told him to—</p>
<p> </p>
<p>stop—</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>so how can I stop loving him?   </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Of Spaces Between Us</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Growing up, I’m programmed to dominate, to be on top, to be superior. In short, to become an insufferable achiever. In all aspects of life.</p><p> </p><p>My parents taught me that <em>to not make a mistake, you must expect for it.</em></p><p> </p><p>When you expect to fail, you will be more motivated to be absolute, hence avoiding to commit some. That must be what I wrongly assessed. I’m so intensely avoiding the big<em> ‘X’</em> mark that’s why I didn’t notice it coming.</p><p> </p><p>I am not claustrophobic but upon seeing my recently checked test paper, I feel my world getting smaller. And, smaller when I took Bright’s from his grasp only to see a free of any errors sheet of paper with a huge circled <em>‘100’</em> on top of it. He got it perfectly.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Why didn’t I?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>My <em>‘why’</em> is just answered by his guffaw. He said that it doesn’t matter because I’m smart enough. That it’s only a score. That I got one number wrong, then so what? So what if I smacked his head to show how much I’m fuming at him, right? He deserved it.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>One point makes a difference. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I want that to be instilled on his mind. But what he said stuck in mine like a memorized preamble instead. The actual answer to why I didn’t get it. The answer that he’s patiently explaining to me now.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“You see there, Bf?”</strong> He started his speech with this as he points at the stage where there’s a program that’s taking place. I squinted my eyes. <strong>“Hmm, yeah what about it?”</strong> I asked him as I raised my right eyebrow. <strong>“That’s public distance—”</strong> I see why because the gap between the people and the one on the platform is wide.</p><p> </p><p><em>20 feet apart</em>.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“—here’s social distance—”</strong> he continued as he turn his finger to the three people engaging in a simple talk.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>6 feet apart.</em>
</p><p> </p><p><strong>“—and that, you see Love with that girl from nowhere, I don’t know what her name is, but that’s personal distance—”</strong> We both cringe at the sight of Love attempting to flirt with the said girl,</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>4 feet apart,</em>
</p><p> </p><p>that I signaled him to walk farther from where we are but I think the fate do not favor us today.</p><p> </p><p>Because here, right in front of us, is Gun who’s lip-locked with an unknown boy that we have to go back again.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“Lastly, what we just saw is a great example of intimate distance, Bf. Do you get it now?”</strong> I know he’s trying to gulp down the bile from his throat so I quickly agreed then we proceed into emptying our stomachs in the comfort room.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“Bf, we’re freaking fifteen and Gun’s acting like a grown up already!”</strong> I grumbled after wiping the side of my mouth. He shifted forward to snatch the towel in my hand and he gently pats it to the spots I didn’t clean yet.</p><p> </p><p><em>3 feet apart.</em>  </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“It’s normal, Bf. We’re teenagers so we’re ruled by our hormones!” </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Then is wanting to peck you normal?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The way I can just lean in a bit for our lips to reach is tempting. But not enough to make me do it, not when I’m busy taming my heart to pump slower. Slower but then he bends closer.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>2 feet apart.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>I plead to the gods for this man not to hear how my heart is wilding.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“W-well, even so! We’re still inside the school’s premises! P.D.A. is not allowed!”</strong> I give convincing him a burl as I convinced myself as well.</p><p> </p><p>That I should not be thinking if our distance is also an intimate one like Gun and his boy-toy. That I should not be thinking how kissing him would be like. That he’s my best friend.</p><p> </p><p>He’s my best friend so why do I want to end our friendship and become more instead?</p><p> </p><p>More.</p><p> </p><p>More closer.</p><p> </p><p><em>1.5 feet apart</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Then he stopped at that as he drop the towel to the side of the sink. And he gave my shoulder a squeeze.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“Someday, Bf. You’ll realize what you’re missing out if you’re not going to live it up today when we’re so young and free.”</strong> He said this like a father giving a sermon to his kid then he went out, leaving me rooted to where I’m standing.</p><p> </p><p>That someday is my present then. Because I just missed an opportunity to verify what I denied myself.</p><p> </p><p>In knowing if what I feel for him is worth the risk of losing my sole role to his life: being his <em>best friend. </em></p><p> </p><p>The only one who he allows to sit beside him in the cafeteria. The only one whom he shared his locker room password with. The only one who he saves a space for at every practice, every seminars, and every flag ceremony. All of it is my privilege because <em>I am his best friend</em>.</p><p> </p><p>The privileges that I’m so set on throwing away for a single hope that he might actually feel the same way for me.</p><p> </p><p>Well, if I did then my being here, watching Love, Rosie for the umpteenth time with him in their cozy sofa wouldn’t happen.</p><p> </p><p>And me hurting, for an immeasurable amount, wouldn’t also happen as I openly hear him talk with his Chaton. Oh how I wish I am him.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>8 feet apart.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>This is the thing I want to miss, I wanted to say to him after he plops down again beside me.</p><p> </p><p>I want to miss the thought of him letting Chaton sit where my place were. I want to miss the thought of him letting Chaton know his secrets I was once the holder. I want to miss the thought of him saving a space for Chaton. For letting him in his life. I want to miss it all but what can I do?</p><p> </p><p>My eyes may be closed but not my ears, most definitely not my heart. That is heaving for the pain to stop as he budged his way in my zone.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>3 feet apart.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The television screen seems blurry in my vision.    </p><p> </p><p>How I wish this imaginary space in between our pinky fingers can be ablur too. So that we can’t pinpoint who holds the hand of who first. So that when I look at him, he has a reason to look at me too. So that we can imitate the scarring mental image of a horny fifteen year-old Gun and his boy-toy.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>1 feet apart.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>And like before, he stopped at <em>2</em>. Fingers detached on the border of the sofa. Talking to me about the moral story of the movie. Acting as if these spaces didn’t exist.</p><p> </p><p>While I hid my bitter smile and remove my hand that’s gripping the cloth of the sofa tightly.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Tightly.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Tightly, like how this space of ours suffocates me to death. Tightly, like how I hold on to the thought of me and him. Tightly, like the thought of him and his Chaton marrying that plagues me in my sleep.</p><p> </p><p>Forcing me to let go.</p><p> </p><p>But not this love for my light.   </p><p> </p><p>So I nodded without understanding and we carry on with paying attention to the movie. Like what I do best when I’m being reprimanded to study strictly.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Pretending to understand what I don’t.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>This might be the reason why I’m incorrect all along with my assumption with expecting to be mistaken. My parents are wrong.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>In order for you not to fail is for you not to fall. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>And I fell.</p><p> </p><p>Hard.</p><p> </p><p>I knew I would but I let myself be pulled to the pit of this irrevocable love.</p><p> </p><p>Unchangeable.</p><p> </p><p>Like how I can’t be near him, <em>no feet apart</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Yes, I’m molded to be a succeeder but too bad, he is the rare goal I can’t ever achieve.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Of Things Once Ours</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Thrill. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Thrill is when I feel the breeze of the wind caressing my skin as I sped up to cycle. Furiously pedaling like I’m being chased by a mad bull. Dodging the bulky road on the right and rather veering to the left. Looking behind my back to see if the bull is approaching. Controlling my faint smirk not to escape my lips as I caught the reflection of my exhausted lean best friend decreasing his speed on the river bank. Seeing that the finish line is near, I shouted with glee.</p><p> </p><p>And profanities the next. For he crashed his bicycle with mine unannounced. What a sore loser thing to do.</p><p> </p><p>Like a loser I pushed him. <strong>“Oh you’re such a jerk! Why’d you bumped me?”</strong> I snapped.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Then there’s this thrill again. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Thrill when I almost see his head smoking in temperament. Thrill when he brushed his hair up causing it to be scruffy.</p><p> </p><p>This thrill that I feel when he crankily drawled, <strong>“Just because.”</strong></p><p> </p><p><strong>“What a weakling thing to say, Bf.”</strong> Thrill, is when I bravely teased him. Then he’ll just roll his eyes at me.</p><p> </p><p>Thrill, is when he’ll lightly threaten me with, <strong>“Whatever, nerd. I let you win this round but wait for our rematch! I’m gonna win by then!”</strong></p><p> </p><p>Thrill, is when he thought he’s intimidating me with his antics but he can’t fool me for I can clearly see how he’s preventing to chuckle in his own quick-temperedness.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“Whatever helps you sleep at night, noob.”</strong> Thrill, is when I acted alongside him but we, for sure, know that I’m the one who’s acing at this sport and he’s only coming in second.</p><p> </p><p>That’s what I let him think because he may be second only after me but no one other than I knows that he owns the top rank in my heart.</p><p> </p><p>Second to none.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>And there goes this thrill again. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Thrill, is when I see his delighted eyes as he scoop up his favorite dark chocolate flavored ice cream here at the restaurant where we frequented. Contrasting with the creamier vanilla one I’m enjoying.</p><p> </p><p>Thrill, is when we both cringed, yet again, by the sickeningly sight of Gun with Jaylerr while feeding each other from the table across from us, this one is his new boyfriend after Oab, the unknown boy we met last time.</p><p> </p><p>Thrill, is when he tried to mimic them by nudging his spoon with trickling melted ice cream on my mouth. That I had no choice but to swallow it down before my face gets messy.</p><p> </p><p>Thrill, is when he laughed with what he did. As if my face can amuse him for the duration of our time here. We also boisterously talk with each other as if we own the place. Then Gun and his date threw us <em>‘I don’t know you two’</em> looks.</p><p> </p><p>And as if we cared.</p><p> </p><p>Because all I could think of is this little bubble of ours and what should I do for it not to pop instantly.</p><p> </p><p>Be gone.</p><p> </p><p>Begone the needles that can prick it.</p><p> </p><p>Be gone not this thrill, when he’s working real hard in adjusting the claw from the sham of a crane game to give me that fluffy carrot stuffed toy that I wanted.</p><p> </p><p>Thrill, is when I see just how concentrated he is, his gaze unmoving from his target. Then there’s the thrill once again when he presented me the soft stuffed-toy after so many pennies wasted and a Love with her beau annoyed with how long they waited for us to finish.</p><p> </p><p>Thrill, is when I feel Love’s suspicious glance at us that I had withdrawn my still hand on his and hugged my pillow-like carrot instead of the one who gifted it to me.</p><p> </p><p>I’m ashamed to feel this surge of regret. This surge of my mixed up feelings. This surge of wanting to cage us into this little world of ours—</p><p> </p><p>Here.</p><p> </p><p>In our safe haven.</p><p> </p><p>With the books as our counselors. With the shelves as our shields. With the silence that lures me into giving in to my desire.</p><p> </p><p>To this thrill of making him mine.</p><p> </p><p>As I watch him sleep, with the Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban book as his pillow, I crossed my arms on the table and lay my head on it too. Turning to his side as I try to trace his appearance with my eyes. Capturing the way his bangs sway together with the summer air that blows from the window. The humming of birds outside seem like a lullaby to my ears but I can’t fall asleep too.</p><p> </p><p>I won’t slumber.</p><p> </p><p>Not when I’m feeling this thrill that’s way more excruciating than our races, more pleasurable than sharing our favorite things, and more—</p><p> </p><p>I’m falling more and more to his deep-set eyes that are now starting to focus on me.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Thrill.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Thrill is when I closed mine right after he opened his.</p><p> </p><p>Clutching my fists as he ruffled my hair. Staying still as he scribbled something on his notes. Waking up to be greeted by his recently emptied seat.</p><p> </p><p>Thrill, is when I picked up what he left for me to read.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>“You drool when you sleep, it dampened your cheeks too. Go wash your face, Nerd!” </em>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Thrill.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Thrill, is when he didn’t even notice that it’s my tears.</p><p> </p><p>My tears that are caused by these thrills he and I experienced.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Experienced.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Because we can’t do it again no more. Well except for racing, I guess. But this time, I’ll rank as second.</p><p> </p><p>Second to his Chaton.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>That’s why I can’t feel thrilled no more. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The thrill of wanting to say the truth when he asked me if I ever lied to him in relation to what I’m watching on my phone right now: <em>Your Lie in April</em>. While he’s busy scanning his paper works in his study room where we’re killing our time. I said no.</p><p> </p><p>I lied again.</p><p> </p><p>I asked back, <strong>“Did you ever lie to me too?”</strong> Thrill, for heaven’s sake, is consuming me at this moment as well.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“Yes. But, I won’t tell you why. It’s in the past now anyway. Don’t worry it’s not something that concerns you, Bf. It’s fine not knowing.”</strong> Thrill, but this time, of hoping. Though I managed to shatter it myself.</p><p> </p><p>I pricked our own bubble with this one question: <strong>“Who proposed between the two of you, Bf?”</strong></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Thrill.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Thrill, is when I paused the movie and act as if I’m not eager to hearing his answer.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“Both of us, spur of the moment you know? At our most special place.”</strong> Thrill, is when my heart strongly held on even if it wants to combust.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“Library, right?”</strong> Thrill, is when I clicked play only to hear his happy toned voice saying, <strong>“Yes.”</strong></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Thrill.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Thrill, is when I lied upfront that I won’t die like the protagonist in the movie after he marries.</p><p> </p><p>Thrill, is when I’m dawned with my fear of losing him—</p><p> </p><p>the only thrill in life I don’t want to feel.  </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Of Unventured Roads</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> <strong>“I loved him first!”</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>“Well, boohoo to you, he loved ‘me’ first!”</strong> </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Why is love overrated? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Because of this drama that is ensuing now, the drama that Bright and I are trying to cut off before these onlookers tell the teachers who will certainly sack us inside the guidance room. The drama which are created by my femme fatale of a cousin, not biologically but the divine genes are confusing as it is, and one of her exes’ current girlfriend.</p><p> </p><p>Seriously, we’re just sixteen and we’re doing what adults do in their prime!</p><p> </p><p>The said girlfriend, who happened to be envious of Love, is still jealous of her up until today that’s why she’s initiating a catfight which my cousin gracefully declined by being frank. That angered the shrieking banshee more but what can she do? Love spitted some facts laced with contempt and irritation that’s a hard pill to swallow.</p><p> </p><p>Jealousy is an ugly feeling, indeed.</p><p> </p><p>Although, is being the first to love or be loved even matters?</p><p> </p><p><strong>“It doesn’t matter, couz. I said it to ruin her idea of love for—argh—she also ruined my face! Look at her scratch marks! That freak!”</strong> I agree. Being physically attacked like this is what I’m hoping that wouldn’t happen to me because I find it hard digesting Love’s state in front of us here in our hang out place, what more if it’s me, Bright? I shudder at the thought.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“Well, charming, you should’ve snatched her wig—oh don’t touch it!”</strong> I looked at Gun who slaps Love’s hand away from her upset face while he gently dabs an ointment on her scratches. Wig? The girl has real hair at least! As if sensing our thoughts, he hurriedly clarified what he just said.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“Oh don’t you two look at me like that! I meant to say, you should’ve made her bald! Like, ugh, if it’s me I’ll have her taste the underworld and drown her in the River of Styx!”</strong> Love responded with an enthusiastic, <strong>“Yeah, right!”</strong> to Gun and they high-fived.</p><p> </p><p>These two, really. They’re like this too when we talked about the real definition of love. Back then my only input are the food and drinks and my welcoming ears because I, for one, can’t even fathom just what love is. And of course, who would be well-versed on this field other than the Daughter of the Goddess of Love and the Son of the God of War?</p><p> </p><p>They both filled me in about this love and how it makes the world change. Both may be having different answers but the meaning is just the same.</p><p> </p><p>That love is a feeling you can feel for anyone you choose to love.</p><p> </p><p>Then it must be why their divine parents hooked-up with one another, I carelessly said in our conversation that earned a groan from the two of them. A sign of resignation for it’s true. Ares and Aphrodite committed adultery. A common fact known not only in Uncle Rick Riordan’s books but in the ancient Greek Mythology history too.</p><p> </p><p>See, in all the stories of the past I’ve read. They always have this same vagueness on how they described love in a way we humans can understand. In the case of my cousins’ God parents, I guess their definition can be applied to them.</p><p> </p><p>That you can love somebody regardless.</p><p> </p><p>But that doesn’t mean it applies to us too. Because they’re immortals and we’re mortals. What’s normal for them is frowned upon in our society. We have set up our laws, our limitations, and our own perceptions with regard to love so we have this illusion of being ‘free’ to do anything with it. We have our choices to be monogamous or polygamous or just be with ourselves.</p><p> </p><p>And for my situation, I chose to follow the monogamy trend. For I only feel this way to one person.</p><p>   </p><p>So, I asked, how can one say love’s whole when it’s tainted with shards of broken promises of fealty? Of being trustful? Of staying loyal? Of loving a person with his entirety?</p><p> </p><p>Gun said love’s pure, it is the choices we make that is poor that it lowers its value. Love said love’s complete, it is only us who part it in pieces to accommodate the people we choose to give it with. I think, that’s why history must not really repeat itself. Those tragic love stories should remain fictional.</p><p> </p><p>It was what I’ve muttered to Bright when he asked me to pick a love story that I like to happen to me among those in the selection. I added, that some didn’t have each other as their endgame. Some are abandoned. Some cheated. That most of the love stories are sorrowful so I rather not.</p><p> </p><p>Most of them got to live happily ever after, he uttered.</p><p> </p><p>Most.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>But I don’t like for us to end up like that. I want originality. I want stability. I want us to belong together. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The answers I whispered in my mind, hoping he could read it through my eyes.</p><p> </p><p>As we rest our backs in this grassy ground of the hill our adventure has brought us to when we were fourteen and reckless, I begin to contemplate just what really love is. Like before, we snuck in again just to scrutinize the starry night sky.</p><p> </p><p>For him to look above so that I can look at him without concocting up for a warrant to—unobstructedly. In parallel to that of bright stars. Blinking at us—</p><p> </p><p>—him staring at me.</p><p> </p><p>Eyes connected with mine.</p><p> </p><p>Then it hit me like the cold from that night in our summer camp; the warm hands who supported me perpetually.</p><p> </p><p>It settles in my mind the way his lectures did.</p><p> </p><p>It crashes through my senses like the way my bicycle stumbled when he had a fit.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>All of it. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I feel all of it becomes one tonight.</p><p> </p><p>Fusing to help me know.</p><p> </p><p>That, I love him.</p><p> </p><p><em>I love him</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Skipping the <em>‘what’</em>, I decoded the <em>‘how’</em> first. And it makes me cackle because, I don’t even know what love is! How can I know I love this man who’s lying beside me?</p><p> </p><p>I just did. I felt it.</p><p> </p><p>In the warmth of his hands. The concern in his words. The fun intention of his not-so-bad behavior.</p><p> </p><p>Then what is love?</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Love is overrated. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It makes you blindsided of its genuine worth. It makes you not aware that you’re already feeling it. Just when you meet the eyes of that someone, there you’ll know.</p><p> </p><p>Even if it’s overrated we tend to unconsciously love. It’s inevitable. Loving him, when we’re at the peak of our happiness, is unavoidable.</p><p> </p><p>Now, I see the light in Ares’s and Aphrodite’s fault. You can’t help it if you truly love someone to the point that you willingly sin forevermore. Even if it’s stated in the very beginning that it’s forbidden. Like how me and him regularly defy the warning sign of this land. All for our love for this scenery. All for the deities’ love.</p><p> </p><p>All for my love for him.  </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Love. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Love and Gun were right with their view of it. But they forgot one word: <em>Special. </em></p><p> </p><p>Love is a feeling you can feel and give to anyone you choose, yes. But it’s all different. Being a one-man person, I have the right to say that it’s different because there will be only one in your life. The one who will rise to the top. The one who you can’t remove in your heart.</p><p> </p><p>The one who will you feel this special feeling with—love.</p><p> </p><p>My light’s the only one for me.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Even though I am not for him. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>As we sit here, on the same but not forbidden anymore, hill that we grew fond of, I digress all that I wanted to admit to him.</p><p> </p><p>We wind up not having the <em>‘us’</em> of our future, I said in my mind. Choosing among those mythical love stories sounds better than our original version. Because, here we are.</p><p> </p><p>Our love story ended before it even started.</p><p> </p><p>Tragic.</p><p> </p><p>Like Orpheus and Eurydice, Theseus and Ariadne, Ares and Aphrodite. I considered the latter as well, for they really were, the root of a bad kind of love. And I won’t trail their footsteps. I won’t because I love him and I want him to have an unimpaired love.</p><p> </p><p>That’s why even if I’m so jealous of him retelling how Chaton came into his life, I still listen.</p><p> </p><p>That’s why even if it kills me inside I still asked him who loved who first.</p><p> </p><p>Then the memory of the clash of Love and her enemy flashed in my mind again. Only that I am the one who’s initiating the drama to happen even if I hate it.</p><p> </p><p>Here, as our eyes meet for the nth time.</p><p> </p><p>Here, to where I realized I love him.</p><p> </p><p>Here, where I drop a bit of my heart, endlessly.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“I loved him first.” </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>I loved you first.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>“Well, I think he loved you first.” </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>I love you. </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Of Our Borrowed Moments</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <em>“I am what society thinks is you;</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>who is lacking not but the other way around,</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>I am the question answered first in yew.</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>The stationary token that can make you weep,</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>the intangible thing you can keep, and the dream after you sleep. </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>What am I?”  </em>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Think, Win. <em>Think</em>, my friends said.</p><p> </p><p>Though this doesn’t make sense! <em>It’s us who’s supposed to make it make sense</em>, Love intervened. It’s the last week of our junior high school days, we’ll move up in our senior year, that’s why we are here, at one of the booths of this last fair that we’re attending. Having fun while it lasts. But I am not finding this riddle fun for I am the only one who’s trying to decipher just what is it.</p><p> </p><p><em>What’s the answer?</em> I heard Gun in my right complained. I’m about to acknowledge his question but then I see Love in my left periphery who is trying to flirt with the staff in order for us to win this. Ugh, she’s trying to charm them again just to get what she wants. I shook my head with my musings. The noise in the background isn’t helping us either. It’s so crowded here it’s nauseating.</p><p> </p><p>Hmm, what society thinks is me huh. Oh, me. Does the first line refers to George Mead’s concept of self? I consulted to Gun as we think deeper.</p><p> </p><p>Let’s see, not lacking, not less but more? <em>Carry on</em>, Gun said. <em>Yew, that’s a poisonous tree, right?</em> Love replied, for sure it’s a tree but she didn’t really know.</p><p> </p><p>What about the first question, I don’t see any questions other than the first letter <em>‘Y’</em>. Why! Wait, I told them to calm down. Stationary, immobile, unmoving…once I see it, it can make me cry.</p><p> </p><p><em>It must be something close to your heart, something sentimental,</em> Gun exclaimed.</p><p> </p><p>There’s so many things that’s going on inside my head that I didn’t notice someone from behind me who puts his large hands on my face to hinder my eyes from seeing. I tried to free myself from his grasp, not stopping until I heard that familiar chortle.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Bright.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Out of the blue, my mind becomes clear. What is that intangible thing that I can keep?</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>This feeling of mine from this moment. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I swatted his hands as I voice out my answer to the staff.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“Memory.” </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Our joyous cheers boomed when the staff declared that we got it correctly and handed us the Polaroid camera as our prize. The three messed with my hair as we posed for some pictures. Rest assured that this merry moment will be forever frozen here in this photo I’m holding. So we can look back and smile, in this memory that we made.</p><p> </p><p>So we can recall how embarrassed we were at, and how we almost renounced Gun when his battalion of exes came to our moving up rites just to cause a skirmish, which we had to cover up for him. Oh, I never exerted that much strength in my life. I’m still expecting my growth spurt so I can’t match up to those bulky built exes of my warfreak cousin. Fortunately, my best friend is there to take my place and he handled them very well that they went home with bruises. That’s why they got for not listening.</p><p> </p><p>Aside from that, will Love fall behind Gun’s level of waggishness? No.</p><p> </p><p>Hers is exceptional. If Gun has a battalion of boys, she got double the size of it, each for boys and girls alike.</p><p> </p><p>That’s when we started being Grade 11 students. Love is in the air, truly, for she made it contagious. Making the people instantly like her. Making me suffer for being one of her close friends who is envied my many. Making Bright overly-protective of me, this is the good effect of it, I enthused. I like the feeling of being taken care of the most, especially by him. Even if he’s popular, he didn’t use it as his leverage and he’s still that friend I’ve known since.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>He’s still the boy I love.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The boy I love who loves to reach the apple from its branch outside the window. It’s past recess time so is he still hungry? I looked on from my seat as he stretch his left arm to pluck the ripe apple, veins showing, and voila! He got it just when I clicked my camera.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Perfect shot. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He must’ve felt my gaze so he snapped his neck at my direction. Then he raised both his eyebrows, as if a good idea came to mind. Click.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Perfect reaction.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He lifted the apple and simpered at me. Click.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Perfect smile.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Then he throws it, thankfully I caught it.</p><p>           </p><p>
  <strong>“You look starving, Bf. Eat. It’s for your brain, Brainiac.”</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Perfectly oblivious. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He returned to putting his headset on his ears while he bites the other apple he saved for himself. I took a shot of the red fruit in my hands as I study his movements. Didn’t he know we’re technically engaged now? I laughed manically. This is perfectly him. Doing something innocent I give malice to in exchange.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>But can I relish this for seconds more before this become a distant memory too?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>I can right? Then I’ll take a bite now. Knowledge is a gift, afterall.</p><p> </p><p>Although it is only I who knows that we’re married, in these mere seconds I requested.  </p><p> </p><p>I request for it to also extend today.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Where those memories are being remembered.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Memories are that driving force inside of me. That’s why I wanted to become a photo journalist instead of a lawyer. My parents are against it of course, I had no choice but to obey them for me to keep this passion. That decision was right, I guess.</p><p> </p><p>For I can still capture him; his hypnotizing eyes, his elegantly straight nose, his enticing lips, his angled jaw, his squishy cheeks—that I can poke whenever. That I can pinch like this, in the beach, as he’s giving me a piggyback ride. Devoid of worries. Only happiness that’s etched on our faces. My happiness that is him, in this little world I made.</p><p> </p><p>How I wish this won’t fade.</p><p> </p><p>Like a memory once it become one.</p><p> </p><p>Once we leave and when he’ll come home to Chaton.</p><p> </p><p>Just when I cracked the mystery he has given me, it’s him who I can’t accept as my reward anymore. Not him but these timeless memories. Memories that I’ll desperately move the heaven and earth for to happen again. But I am self-sacrificing. Selfless enough to give back the apple I only borrowed.</p><p> </p><p>Untouched. Unspoiled. Unbitten.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Of Unsent Questions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If I ever have to pick what my favorite music is, I’d say every sound that my light makes. It makes me happy even when he is raving mad.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>His whimpering. His loud laugh. His squeak. His giggle.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>But not how these girls are annoyingly giggling in our side as we review for our long quiz later on in social sciences.</p><p> </p><p>We’re here lounging in the corridor just outside our classroom as we wait for our subject teacher when they approached us, not us but obviously they came for Bright, who’s entertaining them right now. They are holding a box full of papers inside and you can clearly see their effort in dolling up based on their colorful faces.</p><p> </p><p>I’m brought back in the present when I heard Gun scribbling at the back of his notebook before he taps Love who is busy gossiping, probably about betting how long would it take for Bright to reject the girls, with Gunsmile and Mike. Then the three of them writes something on it too before Gun playfully replaced my reviewer with that notebook of his that’s full of doodles, their insults, his corny pick-up lines and the name of our handsome student-teacher in Math.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Off Jumpol &lt;3 Gun Atthaphan</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Sir Off, I can turn you on! –G<strike>u</strike>on Atthaphan</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Sir Off, you know what’s really an infinite number? Us twogether &lt;3</em>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>“I wonder, just how many hours they spent in the powder room before attempting to flirt with our resident Mr. Stoic hmm.”</em>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>FLAMES</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Off J<strike>u</strike>m<strike>p</strike>ol = 2 LOVERS</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>G<strike>u</strike>n Attha<strike>p</strike>han = 2 LOVERS</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>= 4 MARRIAGE. I THEREFORE CONCLUDE WE’RE MARRYING, SIR!</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>“Maybe they skipped class haha”</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>“</em>
  </strong>
  <strong>
    <em>Hey twin G, wanna bet? He’ll say bye to them in 10 mins.”</em>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>I can go 45 degrees </em>
  </strong>
  <strong>
    <em>or 90 degrees </em>
  </strong>
  <strong>
    <em>or lower, just so you know, Sir.</em>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>“Call, twin G. I say it’s game over in 5 mins.”</em>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>S</em>
  </strong>
  <strong>
    <em>ir Off, I know acute now! Acute baby that’s me &lt;3</em>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>“Mine’s in 3. How ‘bout you Missy?”</em>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>And you know what acute baby like me needs? A right daddy like you &lt;3</em>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>“</em>
  </strong>
  <strong>
    <em>I say in seconds from now on, Mikey.”</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>“Pass this to Win! Hey best friend, what dyah think?”</em>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>I think Gun should stop fantasizing about Sir Off because that guy’s so strict and he looks like he’s the serious type of a guy who would prioritize finishing his studies and fixing his life first before dating. Besides, who would like to date a Grade 12 senior high school student? A college guy like him would never, but Gun, he’s not having any of it.</p><p> </p><p>I sighed and when I finished reading, it’s sort of hard to because the words keeps overlapping with each other but anyway, I closed the notebook and give it back to Gun who’s mocking the girls and their exaggerated gestures. While the three are clumping their mouths as to not burst out laughing.</p><p> </p><p>Gun’s so funny that I’m about to join them as well not until this model-like girl inquires Bright that I had closed my agape mouth.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“What’s your type in girls?” </strong>She shyly asked him as the other four behind her starts fidgeting. Legs slightly parting and shaking, <em>like a chicken who wants to pee</em>, according to Gunsmile.</p><p> </p><p>I saw how Bright’s forehead form a knot. I translated it as: <em>I want to stop this already</em>. Because it surely shows.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“Uh is this included in your research?” </strong>He told her. We’re still onto our second month of being Grade 12 students and they’re already doing research? Oh wow.</p><p> </p><p>Mike whispered to me that it’s, <em>a research for making your best friend their boy, without spacing, friend.</em> I smugly retorted to him that, <em>my best friend doesn’t want a girl, without spacing, friend. </em>That shuts him up.</p><p> </p><p>Love almost spits the water she’s sipping from her tumbler to what the girl says the next minute. <strong>“Yes! You, answering that, will be really helpful!” </strong></p><p> </p><p><em>This girl’s flirting skills are so boomer-like, </em>her disgusted look said.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“Okay. Well, I don’t have one—” </strong>Bright answered as he handed her the survey sheet they’ve given him earlier.</p><p> </p><p>Mike raised his one eyebrow at this and Gunsmile gives me a thumbs up, a sign of agreement that I’m right about my statement.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“—‘cause girls aren’t my type.” </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>With this, the girls dropped what they’re holding. It made Mike fake his shocked face, his eyes comically widening. It granted Gunsmile to dramatically clutch his right chest, <em>as to where my heart is, </em>he’ll say later on to me but he’ll get yelled at by Love who is doing just that for, <em>It’s on the left!, </em>then she’d smack him. And it triggered the ever nosy Gun, who tried to wink at me many times until what he does is not winking anymore but blinking, then he puts up his notebook for me to read the phrase:</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Your victory again, Son of Nike!</em>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>As if my light’s answers are not sinking in these girls’ heads. They still pushed through only to make themselves disappointed twice as much as the first time.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“O-oh, what’s the type of <em>lover</em> you’re looking for then?” </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>And I still listen to disappoint myself like them.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“I don’t know.” </strong>He doesn’t know that I love him.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t so why am I still hoping for him to like me back?</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“Why? Don’t you have someone you like? Crush perhaps?” </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>My friends are seriously watching Bright like famished hawks on the hunt. Starving for his answer.</p><p> </p><p>I am starving for his answer too and for his love.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“I don’t.” </strong>He doesn’t love me.</p><p> </p><p>So I copied Gun’s winking to see if it’s effective. It worked. I blinked the tears away while my head’s down low.</p><p> </p><p>So low.</p><p> </p><p>Like how I buried my face in my now-wet pillow that I had to place my recently shut down phone on my bedside table.</p><p> </p><p>So deep.</p><p> </p><p>Like the hole I’ve fallen into.</p><p> </p><p>So painful.</p><p> </p><p>Like how his messages stung me after hours of reading them over and over. It makes me cry even more when my mind keeps on weaving through my stored records of his voice.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>His voice when he’s happy, angry, excited and being honest. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It played on repeat like the honesty that drips from those messages full of his love for his Chaton.</p><p> </p><p>His honest voice that is like music to my ears will remain the same, only that it became sad.</p><p> </p><p>Agonizing. Gloomy.</p><p> </p><p>Blue, like the color of my once radiant sky.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Of Withheld Answers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Gun and Love advised that if I can’t confess to Bright, then I should just divert my attention to other guys, I told them it’s not as easy as how they change their subject of affection. That earned me a pinch from either side of my hips, I had no other choice but to yelp in surprise and moan in pain. They said, <em>why not? </em>I’m handsome, genius, and loveable. I have my fair share of redeeming qualities that can attract boys I deemed worthy.</p><p> </p><p>Not only can but I did attract some. I did so my half-blood cousins hauled me into reserving them front row seats in this soccer match practice I’m participating. They said they’re here in the field to help me collect boys and to enjoy the view. The view that are my icky sweaty teammates.</p><p> </p><p>Except for my light. He may sweat buckets but he’ll still look good in my eyes. My spellbound state caused me to be off track in our game that’s why I didn’t dodge the bullet-speed ball right on time it hit my stomach.   </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>“Win!”</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>“Omg couz!”</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>“Mate!”</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>“Bf!”</strong>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I heard them shout as I tumble down the ground. Oh, this will sore later on ugh. I’m carried by someone and placed me on one of our bleachers. I’m fine but I feel numb, that’s what I said to them. And they carried on playing while I rest, Love fanning me and Gun tending to my stomach. I see the worried look my best friend keeps on throwing to my side that I had to wave him off, showing him that there’s nothing to worry about.</p><p> </p><p>There’s nothing to worry but I’m slowly getting dehydrated. I bob my adams apple up and down, feeling just how dry my throat is, I pouted to Gun and points at the ice-box where the drinks are to fetch me one. Gun stands up but he abruptly sits down again. He coyly wiggles his eyebrows at me and I only stare at him in confusion. With Love’s squeal beside me, I’m brought back to reality.</p><p> </p><p>To the reality where these two men both offered me a drink. I eyed the two bottles switching from my right and left. Gun elbowed me to pick and Love fans herself now, <em>so hot!</em> I heard her say.</p><p> </p><p>Yes, hot, literally because I feel the heated rivalry oozing between Joss and Luke, my teammates, as they said my name in sync. Gun and Love can’t stay still and they constantly kicks me lightly on my shin as if to remind me that this is specifically what they’re talking about.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Boys with cock will flock, Win.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Their crude remark goes to show how much they want me to move on from Bright and to jump one of these fine men who are standing in front of us instead.</p><p> </p><p>But I can’t no matter how hard I try to forget my light who’s shining brighter as ever. Even if I’m pre-occupied, I still look in the field to see him joyously play. I can’t move on even if I’m bestowed with the blessings in the form of these admirers of mine. I can’t.</p><p> </p><p>How can I?</p><p> </p><p>When he’s being caring like this, saving me from this awkward situation.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“Bf, here’s your tumbler. It’s refilled with mineral water already, young master.”</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Then he bowed after saying that and tapping Joss and Luke. They just gave him unimpressed glances and said bye to me, to Gun and Love who in turn slaps Bright in annoyance, before they run back in the field. I open up my tumbler and drink from it only to choke to my friends’ bantering.</p><p>    </p><p><strong>“You. are. the. fucking. worst. Bright. Vachirawit!” </strong>Gun staggeringly said to Bright who he is shaking like a toy.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“What? What did I do?” </strong>My light responded as he stops Gun all the while he is shielding his face from Love’s spiker-like hands that’s ready to maim him.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“You just ruined the chance of Win in bagging a boyfriend!” </strong>Love berated. Gun nods as he put his hands in the both side of his waist like a stance of a mom who nags her child.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“You’re such a cockblocker, Bright! It’s also Win’s chance to move on from y—” </strong>Gun was cut off by my covering of his face with a stinking towel. My heart beats fast. Oh, dear cousin. You almost slip! His words are muffled when he tried to speak. He should be grateful I’m merciful, if not—ugh I will still let him breathe. I don’t want to commit a crime, not when I’m planning to become a lawyer.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“Move on? From who?” </strong>Bright asked. Oh, gods, this is what I’m afraid of. Love coughs. Gun continued.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“From, y-you know! You know, his crush? Yeah!” </strong>Nice save. But not enough to kill my best friend’s curiosity that of a cat’s.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“Crush? Why didn’t I know you have a crush, Bf?” </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Gun quietly plops down on his seat. Love winced in Bright’s tone. Was he hurt? Disappointed? Jealous? It’s not the time to daydream, Win.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“It d-doesn’t matter, Bf. I’m trying to move on from him.” </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>I’m trying to move on from you and it doesn’t matter because I keep on coming back to loving you.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“Still. I’m your best friend but if you don’t want to share then I respect your privacy.” </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>I’m sorry I can’t tell you. I’m sorry I have to keep secrets from you even though we promised not to. </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“It really doesn’t matter, best friend.” </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>It doesn’t matter because you’re my best friend that I love with all my heart. It doesn’t. Because you won’t love me not as your best friend—</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“Yeah, best friend.” </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Yes, because I’m just your fucking best friend.</em>
</p><p> </p><p><strong>“So, who would tell that fucker he’s that crush</strong> <strong>of yours, Win. Because I’m hella sure, it’ll not be you.” </strong>Love said after a moment of silence when Bright turned his back on me.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Yes, it will not be me.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>That’s the funny thing. I can answer all those difficult questions in our tests but I can’t with his easy one.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>‘</em>
  <em>Who is your crush?’</em>
</p><p> </p><p>That the only required answer is as simple as <em>‘You’</em>.</p><p> </p><p>But it’s not just a simple feeling of crushing that I feel for you, my light. I wanted to reply to him now when he’s asking me again. On the phone.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>‘Why can’t you move on from him even if you have many suitors that are chasing after you?’</em>
</p><p> </p><p>It’s because I love you, you fucker.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Of Your Reality Excluding Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Contrary to popular belief, my best friend is not heartless nor cold. People assume that way because they might be intimated by his poker face every time they meet him. Which is a wrong way to judge someone but I can’t blame them. Even I will think he’s unapproachable if not for the fact that, <em>I am his only best friend</em>, aside from Mike and Gunsmile. And being close to him means I know him inside and out. So I’m entitled to say that my best friend is an introvert.</p><p> </p><p>He likes to keep to himself. He likes his solitude so much to the extent that he always decline the proposals of girls, and boys, for them to date. He turned down even the queen bee, the royal highness that enraged half of the hets’ population in our school. That’s why they painted my light as the one <em>‘who</em> <em>has the balls to reject the fairest of them all, Queen Pam’</em>.</p><p> </p><p>It became his brand. The tagline everyone buys. The buzz every club in hunt of new members wants to ride with.</p><p> </p><p>For it’s the month where the clubs are reigning every nook of our hallways, passing us flyers, persuading us to join their growing <em>‘family’</em>, but in reality, they just want to add the name of <em>Bright Vachirawit</em> for its hook and appeal to the public. <em>Noise marketing</em>, as the man of the hour himself called it. So we only get in the queue of the clubs we’re interested in.</p><p> </p><p>There’s a maximum limit of the clubs you can join though, no more than 5 just to fit in your schedule. Well, I already have 3 so far: Reading Club, Soccer Club, and Journalism Club. But, I think I need to drop the Soccer Club because my parents are expecting me to run this last year as a president for our student council.</p><p> </p><p>I did do so per my parents’ order. I became a president, a sulky one, while my friends enjoy their personally chosen clubs: Mike and Gunsmile just joined the Soccer Club for they, <em>‘need extra time to finding our the one’</em>. Love didn’t have one because she said it’s only a waste of time, <em>‘I’d rather sleep the time I’d stress over those clubs’</em>, and well it’s reasonable so I didn’t argue back.</p><p> </p><p>Meanwhile, Gun, he does maximized the given limit. That warfreak have Reading Club, Theater Club, Journalism Club, Math Club—the reason’s obvious, of course he joined this one for Sir Off, he hates Math but the things you do for lust really—and on top of that he’s my Public Information Officer too! Oh, boy the energy he has. While Bright has three: Reading Club, Soccer Club, and Music Club.</p><p> </p><p>The Music Club where his passion can be honed and where I’m doing my random inspection to. As a president I must ensure that everything’s not in chaos, right? That’s why I’m here even though my heart’s wanting to cause a fight because of what I’m seeing.</p><p> </p><p>Noise marketing worked, indeed. For that Pam joined this club too, for Bright. I watched how she acts as if she doesn’t know how to strum the guitar she’s wrongly holding. And because of her dumbness, my ever pitiful light helps her by teaching her the basics. The basics which one should know before joining this <em>Music Club</em> founded for <em>musically inclined</em> students. Clearly, she didn’t get the notice. I rolled my eyes at the sight of that girl who’s scooting over to my best friend like a leech.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“Hey, Bright! Uhm, can I borrow your pick? Oh, never mind! How can you show me how to strum correctly if you don’t have a pick, right? Ah, I know, put down your guitar and give me your pick!” </strong>The leech said as she waits for Bright to put down his guitar. After that she puts his hands in hers and then she tried to strum.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“There, you can put your arms around me too if you’d like. So your arms won’t numb!” </strong>I’m finding it hard not to gag. This leech had the audacity to smile at him sultrily too! How low can you be? My light already said no to you! I’m raging as I walk towards them.</p><p> </p><p>Bright looked at me when I snaffled the pick out of that bitch’s hold. The pick that I freshly cut in half. I give them both each of their share.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“There. Problem solved. And please don’t be too noisy, there are others who likes to practice in peace, okay? Thank you for complying in advance.” </strong>I sarcastically said to Pam who dropped the pick—that I picked up when the room’s empty—and is getting redder each second.</p><p> </p><p>My light fiddles the half of the pick in his hands as sign of his gratitude. <em>‘Thank you, Bf’</em> he’ll say to me later. He’s very welcome. <em>‘But you still cut my pick!’</em>, and this is what he’ll also whine that I’ll just respond with, <em>‘Stupid problem made by a stupid person requires stupid solution, Bf’. </em></p><p> </p><p>He did agree though, as we narrate what happened to our friends. We all laughed about it, made reenactments and such; we’re happy to make fun of his situation.</p><p> </p><p>But I’m not sure if him not assuring me that he’ll come to my private birthday party—private for I arranged it just for the two of us—will be fun to me now we’re heading on our homes. Tomorrow’s my 18<sup>th</sup> birthday and I had to coax my parents to give that day all for myself—to move the grand party they’re planning with our relatives—for me to celebrate it together with my most important person.</p><p> </p><p>Sad to say, I have to party alone. He made an effort to ask me what I want as my birthday gift though I only want is for him to be with me in that day.</p><p> </p><p>So I said I wanted a watch. He said okay. He didn’t get it as usual.  </p><p> </p><p>He didn’t get the figurative meaning of me wanting a watch. That is for him to spare me his time. He didn’t but I still bet on my cards.</p><p> </p><p>The next day I told Pam—I had no choice, she’s the only one inside the Music Club room that time—to tell Bright that I’ll wait for him in the place I told him after class.</p><p> </p><p>I waited after that after class I told her—my gut feeling tells me that she didn’t tell him but if she did then what? Bright can still ditch me.</p><p> </p><p>I waited and waited until the foods I prepared becomes spoiled, until the halves of the pick I made as bracelets absorbed the coldness of the night air, and until my confession lay buried in my heart.</p><p> </p><p>I waited but there’s no Bright Vachirawit who came.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Of Unhonored Words</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I have a love-hate relationship with the weather.</p><p> </p><p>I love it when it’s sunny.</p><p> </p><p>When it permits me to go on an expedition with my light. Where we can go to places by foot and just leisurely spending our youth together. Running, playing, and enjoying. And me, loving him unrestrictedly. But I love it more whenever the scintillating sunray hits his skin, making him look like an angel—ethereal angel who you will fall in love with. Who you will do everything for him not to go back to heaven. Who you will offer and burn your treasures for, just to satisfy the Gods and maybe they will let that kind of angel stay with you until you’re no more.</p><p> </p><p>Until that angel fly away. Away from you.</p><p> </p><p>Like how the warm summer solstice would be once replaced by the cold winter. Like how I feel now, standing near him at the waiting shed—he’s so near yet so far.</p><p> </p><p>I guess, I didn’t satisfy the Gods. That might be it because he flew away from me, far, far away. After the night of my birthday, I started to let him slip. To free him. I realized, I shouldn’t monopolize him because an angel like him deserves to roam the world. Not only in mine. He’s not mine to begin with. That’s why even if I didn’t receive an apology from him after he ditched me, we’re still cool. It’s all right. I doubted though, why didn’t he come? Then I asked Pam to confirm that she did tell my light. She did and he didn’t come. I almost dumped the bracelets I wrapped to gift to him, but I kept it even if it’s not going to be of use, not when he indirectly rejected me on, ironically, the supposed happy day of my life.</p><p> </p><p>It sucks.    </p><p> </p><p>Falling in love with an angel like this man beside me sucks.</p><p> </p><p>I wanted to yank his headset off and yell at him. I wanted to yell that I love him. I wanted to pull him to give him a searing kiss.</p><p> </p><p>I wanted to but I didn’t.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Why? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Because it will cost me to lose sight of him completely.</p><p> </p><p>Like an angel who will vanish when summoned. And I don’t want to lose him.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I don’t want to but I fell in love with the angel. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Even if I know he’s here just to guide and help me make unquestionable decisions that will give my life proper direction—I strayed.</p><p> </p><p>My heart strayed and it can’t help but to beat for him.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Dug. Dug. Dug. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>In harmony with the unpredicted rain that pours down.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Drip-drop. Drip-drop. Drip-drop. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I hang my left hand in the air to catch the raindrops.</p><p>  </p><p>I love it when it’s rainy.</p><p> </p><p>But I hate it when it’s the reason of my dilemma. The dilemma that is me, not being able to confess to Bright.</p><p> </p><p>The weather is the odds I would like to be in my favor. However, the weather moodily didn’t consider to side with me so I’m left with no additional devices but myself.</p><p> </p><p>I only have myself when I decided to say, <em>‘I like you’, </em>to him that one time we have an outing just as the rain coincidentally entered the scene. It destroyed my chance of saying it the second time as well when my light and I are walking on our way to the school. The rain antagonized my confession that third time when we’re both waiting for the bus here, to where we’re also standing in the present.</p><p> </p><p>Just when I’m garnering my courage to confess, for the fourth—I don’t know, I lost count—time, the rain resolved that it’s its time to shine. Oh, not today again. I have to say it now!</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“Brainiac, it’s raining.”</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>I didn’t notice that he’s copying what I’m doing, hands forward. The water trickles down in his hands.</p><p> </p><p>I had to distract myself from staring at his wet hands so I sprinkled him some water.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“Don’t state the obvious. I have eyes too, duh.”</strong> I said as he smirked at me, and ugh, can he stop making me weak? He wiped his face and continued speaking.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“Do you love the rain?”</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>No. I hate it today. It stopped me from telling you how much I love you. So the rain and I are enemies until it supports my quest and become my ally.</p><p> </p><p>It’s not going to happen in the foreseeable future so I returned his question.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“Do you love it?”</strong> He withdraw his hands and starts warming up. Is he seriously planning to exercise? </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“Does it stops the fun?”</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>What’s this another round of questioning for? He moves his head in a circular motion. Stop it. His neck. I hate it here.</p><p> </p><p>I gulped down my urges. I want mineral water to drink, I have none ugh. Oh wait, rain water doesn’t sound so bad.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“Well, it stops the warmth of the sun. Fun? I don’t know.”</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>I don’t know, I only know that your neck is so beautiful. Beautifully edible. Oh, shut up.   </p><p> </p><p><strong>“Wanna know?”</strong> Is this a challenge? The way he cocked his head at my direction and the way he haughtily winked at me screams, <em>‘yes’. </em></p><p> </p><p>Yes, but I didn’t have the opportunity to say it for he tugged my wrist already—I tried to move but to no avail it didn’t work, his hold is so tight, as if he doesn’t really want to let me go and as if I want him to. With all my shouts of protest, my strength depleted so he won our tug of war and we stride through the rain out of the waiting shed where we’re sheltered minutes ago.</p><p> </p><p>Minutes ago, we’re plainly dry. Now, we’re drenched. Insanely drenched. I hate the rain but he made me love it. He made me love it because thanks to the rain, I can see him this bare; his uniform hugging his body, his face when he’s feeling the drizzles, his hands still holding mine.</p><p> </p><p>Thanks to the rain I can touch him like this, feel his warmth that overwhelms my heart. Thanks to the rain I can see just how immaculate he look. All props to the rain that made it possible for me to meet with this angel again. That made it possible to bring the feeling of summer when we play <em>‘it’</em>. That made it possible for us to be this close again.   </p><p> </p><p>He stops midway of our running and turned to me. He’s a wet mess, like a new bathed puppy.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“I love—”</strong> Then my heart backflips with this. He’s catching his breath as he talk.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“I love the rain, Bf! Now, do you love it too?”</strong> I am forever in the rain God’s debt. Seeing him like this is worth my lifetime’s riches. I walked towards him and say what I ought to respond to him.</p><p> </p><p> <strong>“I love it.”</strong></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I love you. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The three words I wanted to say as we’re playing under the rain again, in the street, our sweat and raindrops, and my tears are mixing.</p><p> </p><p>I ended up crying for the odds didn’t side with me—for I don’t know how many times. Just when I about to open my mouth, just when I about to tell him what I feel, the rush and roar comes in, as if against my confession. As if it hates me though I love the rain. I love the rain, I still love it even when it becomes a thunderstorm. I only hate its perfect timing for ruining my all down to the grind.</p><p> </p><p>Bright asked me, who I hate the most among all the Greek deities. I said the God whom I hated, still hate up to this day, is none other than Zeus. That man-whore who seemed to hate me too, the reason why there’s lightning now. Right on time I’m about to say, <em>‘I love you’.</em> Right exactly on time the image of Chaton came to my mind and their upcoming wedding next week.</p><p> </p><p>That’s why when my light questioned me, <strong>“Is there a rain that never stops?”</strong> I shook my head as if to say, <strong>“I don’t know.” </strong></p><p> </p><p>Because I only know that my tears, my feelings, and my love for him will never run out even if the rain ends now.  </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Of Holding On and Letting Go</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <em>“Good afternoon dear passengers. This is the pre-boarding announcement for flight 12A to London. We are now inviting those passengers who…”</em>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Nostalgic.</p><p> </p><p>Being here in the airport feels nostalgic. It feels surreal that I’m here not to welcome someone back home but to send myself off.</p><p> </p><p>Alone.</p><p> </p><p>The memory from that fateful night plays again in my mind, that lonely 13 years old me who sat alone in the middle of nowhere not until—I rather not say his name. Remember what Love said, Win.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Forget. Let go. Do it.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>I’m doing well, I think. Just, seeing this place brings back unwanted memories. I sit here as I entertain my eyes with watching the busy comings and goings of the people, how they juggle their heavy and light luggages, and their kids who are running and bumping others.</p><p> </p><p>Like how we ran back in the days.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Damn it.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>I closed my eyes. <em>Why can’t I forget?</em></p><p> </p><p>I gripped my passport I’m holding. <em>Why can’t I let go? </em></p><p> </p><p>I fished my phone out of my pocket and replied to his messages I left on-read. <em>Why can’t I unlove him?</em></p><p> </p><p>There, I sent it. I sent a simple <em>‘I love you’,</em> it reached his inbox.</p><p> </p><p>But not his heart.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t read between the lines again.</p><p> </p><p>Again, I blinked my tears away.</p><p> </p><p>Again, I still wished him all the best.</p><p> </p><p>Again, I love him.</p><p> </p><p>Again and again and again.</p><p> </p><p>The cycle that I wanted to end—again.</p><p> </p><p>I wanted to let go, I really do. But I don’t know how. I don’t so I called someone who does.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“Hey, warfreak. How did you do it?” </strong>I asked right away he answered my call.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“Did what?” </strong>I heard him say as he shuffle.</p><p> </p><p>Even if my heart can’t take it anymore, I forcefully uttered my next words.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“Leaving. Letting go. Forgetting—" </strong>I stalled. But I remember, I should not.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“—Unloving.” </strong>Like, just how?</p><p> </p><p><strong>“I moved backwards—” </strong>Gun said. He must be in his living room, cleaning.</p><p> </p><p>But backwards? Isn’t it the opposite? “<strong>I took a step back each time while facing him. Well, that’s just my visual representation. But you get what I mean, right?” </strong>He continued. My head’s fuzzy so I just hummed.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“How can I explain this further, hmm, you know we have this misconception of moving on. There I start with this. We all thought it’s all about moving forward, we’re so into this thinking that once we turn our backs to the people we once loved then we’ll get rid of them completely. This is where most of us are wrong. This is just in my opinion, okay, Win?” </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>I’m always behind him, this must be why I can’t move on because I wait for him to look at me too. Maybe Gun is right. I got it wrongly.  </p><p> </p><p><strong>“Yep.” </strong>I chimed in.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“We’re wrong to assume that the remnants of them in our lives will not haunt us. That’s why we find it so hard to really, like seriously, move on. What they missed is the part where they should take things slowly so that they won’t come back into being their old self. How do I know this, you ask? I’ve years of trials and errors to figure this one out, loser.” </strong>I am so fucked up then.</p><p> </p><p>I lowly chuckled. <strong>“Yeah. You had quite the reputation before, of course I know about that. But trials and errors? Where did you get mistaken my oh-so-perfect cousin?” </strong></p><p> </p><p>Why would someone like this warfreak got hurt too, I wonder. </p><p> </p><p>He released a sigh before replying. <strong>“Miscalculation.”</strong></p><p> </p><p><strong>“What did you miscalculate?” </strong>I said as I stare at the expanse of the airport. It’s becoming empty of stragglers now.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“The time that word 'forever' held as promised—” </strong>He paused.</p><p> </p><p>My heart sensed what he’ll say. <strong>“The forever he promised. I thought it will last, you know? But you know me. Math hates me. So I bungled up my calculation. I bungled up my whole life. And I don’t want you to bungle up yours even more so, I’ll tell you now. The secret of moving on is to let go of his hand first then you step backwards away from him, and when you’re so far that you can’t almost see him, that’s the time you must turn your back. Got it?” </strong>I got it.</p><p> </p><p>But for my case, I’ll stop following behind him. I’ll stop to watch him go farther where I almost can’t recognize him. I’ll stop watching him and that’s when I’ll turn my back. </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“Thank you, Gun.” </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>And, I hope we can fully heal from these scars we did to ourselves.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“It’s hard, Win. I know. Been there done that. That’s why I’m here preparing for your arrival, right? As I said, if I did it, you can too.” </strong>I can too.</p><p> </p><p>I can so I will.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“I know.” </strong>Then I ended the call.</p><p> </p><p>I know that I have to let go of this string that connects me to him. I’m going to do it now as I stand to board the plane.</p><p> </p><p>Like how he did, when he left me.   </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>“Good morning our dear passengers. This is the pre-boarding announcement for flight 21B to California. We are now inviting those passengers who…” </em>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>My light is leaving.</p><p> </p><p>And I can’t describe what I feel. How can I if he’ll take my heart with him?</p><p> </p><p><strong>“It’s goodbye then?” </strong>No. Don’t go.</p><p> </p><p>I pleaded inside my head as I watch him stand before me, all set to go. All set to leave this place and his best friend.</p><p> </p><p>All set to leave me.</p><p> </p><p>It’s a miracle though, why am I not crying?</p><p> </p><p><strong>“Goodbye, Bf.” </strong>I said as if I’m happy for him. I’m genuinely happy because he got the chance to study abroad and to one of the prestigious universities in California! I’m happy because this is his dream! I’m happy for him so I swallowed down my misery.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“Take care there okay? Study harder so you won’t lose your scholarship! And read—” </strong>My ramblings are cut off by him hugging my lethargic body. I throw my hands at him to hug him back.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>So warm. So snug. So him.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“I’ll miss you.” </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>I wanted to cry but I can’t.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“I’ll miss you too.” </strong>So I just said this.</p><p> </p><p>He let go of the hug.</p><p> </p><p>No.</p><p> </p><p>Hold onto me, please.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“I’m gonna go now.” </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>One. Two. Three. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>You will not leave me.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>I counted on repeat but you will still leave me.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“Yep. Bye.” </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Bye, please don’t say bye.</p><p> </p><p>I can’t look at him in the eyes as he bid me his farewell.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“Bye. Now go, or you’ll be late for your entrance examination!” </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>I took it already and I passed it. I lied so that I’ll have a reason to let go of you, Bf. Thank you for reminding me or I’m just going to wail here nonstop.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“Okay.” </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Then he starts to walk towards the glass door that separates us. And I turned my back at him and started to walk away from our last meeting spot.</p><p> </p><p>My mind's in dissonance. My heart’s with him. My soul, it speaks to me that I should do it now.</p><p> </p><p>Do what?</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I don’t know.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>I don’t know how and why my feet makes a U-turn. Maybe it’s because of the air. Maybe it’s because of what I drank. Maybe it’s because I will regret it if I won’t run now and grab his hand to hurriedly say, <em>'I love you'. </em>Then maybe he’ll stay—</p><p> </p><p>but I’m already too late. He’s gone.</p><p> </p><p>Gone like what I will be in his life.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is the end of Win's POV. Will add the last chapter once we finished updating this in Twitter. Thank you for reading! Comment lots!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Of Meeting At Last</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just adding Bright's POV here. Enjoy reading his recollections alongside his letter to Win that he's supposed to give to him as a birthday gift before he left for California but shit happened so. Might be confusing tho if you haven't read the socmed version. Nonetheless, you can read this as stand alone. Only if you wanted angst lol. Again, sorry for any errors! -Yra</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Brainiac,</p><p>Do you remember when we first met? I fought over a book with you didn’t I? Do you know why? Because I’m young and stupid enough not to know how to get your attention so I resorted to doing that. What about that time when you’re surprised to see me at your summer camp, remember that day? I actually begged my mom to sign me up because that’s where I’ll find you. And I did. Why did I waste my time and effort you ask?</p><p>Because I like you.</p><hr/><p>I have 3 hours to spare for finding a book that can suit my cause in this enormous bookstore. I repeat, to <em>find a book</em>, I chant in my head, and not to <em>stare at him! </em></p><p>2 and a half. <em>Wasted</em>. I still haven’t found one. <em>And why are my eyes following his movements? </em></p><p>2 and I think this book entitled, Camp Survival: Not for the Faint-hearted, can suffice. <em>And</em> <em>oh boy, why is his hands suddenly bumped into mine? </em></p><p>I don’t know what to do. <strong><em>“</em>I got my eyes on this first.”</strong> And so I spoke out of the blue. </p><p>1 and a half. I found it. <strong>“But I’ve grabbed it first.”</strong> But hearing this soft voice… I don’t know. I don’t know why I’m acting like a clutz. <strong>“This. Is. Mine.” </strong>I enunciated.  </p><p>Though, I’m willing to lose it for him. <strong>“No. It’s mine.” </strong>I heard him say. But I’m not listening. I can’t listen, not when I’m screaming inside. <strong>“Your name’s not on it.”</strong><em> What’s your name? </em>Is what I really wanted to say.</p><p><strong>“So is yours.” </strong>He retorted and, <em>did he just smirked at me? </em>Feisty. I like it.</p><p>Was it still an hour and a half? Nonetheless, <em>not wasted</em>. As my eyes fell down his torso and saw something hanging. <em>Scout: Win, </em>it says. <em>Cute.</em></p><p><em>Win.</em> I snatched the book towards my side.<em> Win. </em>I clutched it when he tried to take it back.<em> Win. </em>I felt the embossed engravings of its spine. <em>Not for the faint-hearted huh. </em>My heart leaped. I don’t know why, well I’m only thirteen! So I only cleared my throat and gave him a stupid response a guy my age would.</p><p>
  <strong>“That’s because I haven’t bought it yet.”</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>But I know I’m already sold.</em>
</p><hr/><p>Then we became close to each other that it concerned you, thinking others might bully me too so you asked me to not talk to you anymore, but remember what I said? That I didn’t care. That I didn’t befriend you because I pity you not having friends. No, I befriended you because I like you.</p><p>That same year I surprised you again for I transferred in your school, remember? I didn’t have much friends so you let me join in on your little group. We’re always hanging out together and I’ve never experienced what real fun is in my entire life until you introduced it to me. You introduced me to a world I thought didn’t exist: a place where I can be happy. That’s why when you declared me as your best friend, I didn’t complain. At least I’m happy. At least I can still like you. </p><p>At least that’s what I let myself to believe.</p><hr/><p>The night air made me seek for warmth. <em>It’s so cold! </em>I looked down my companion’s hands. They’re trembling. It’s not a bad idea to clasp our hands, right? <em>Right. </em>I did it. It feels so nice. And are my eyes fooling me because I’m sure I just saw his ears redden. <em>Is he blushing? Nah, impossible.</em> I shrugged my thoughts. <em>Must be the chilly atmosphere. Man, how did we get lost here?</em> There’s literally nothing in our surroundings. </p><p><strong>“W-where are we now?” </strong>I turned to Win to answer him.</p><p><em>To be very honest, </em><strong>“We won’t know—” </strong><em>I don’t know. </em>But I know he’s scared, I am too. And I also know that being scared will get us nowhere. <strong>“—unless we move forward.” </strong></p><p>For once, I need to be brave. <strong>“Are you still on with our adventure?” </strong>Especially when he tightened his hold of my hand. Like he’s giving me all the assurance that I needed in this world: <em>Don’t be scared. Hold my hand. I’m with you. </em> </p><p><strong>“You didn’t have to ask.” </strong>He said as I squeezed his hand. <em>I’m with you too. </em>Then we found more than we hoped for.</p><p> </p><p>A paradise that we can call our own.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Win.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>A place that echoes what’s on my mind right at this moment.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>You are the paradise</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I do not know of</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But still landed on.</em>
</p><hr/><p>That it’s fine. It will not change anything. But I’m wrong. It changed me. It changed us. Why? Because I like you. While I’m only your best friend. I’m your best friend so I can’t get jealous to anyone who’s after you. I’m your best friend so I don’t have a say to everything that you want to do. I’m your best friend who can’t cross the line. I know by now, you have your questions enumerated and I know you know the answer for all of it too, if it’s not obvious.</p><p>Yes, I kept it hidden. Yes, I lied. Yes, if it still didn’t sink in your mind, I like you.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>But I didn’t say it.</p><hr/><p>This is Win’s fifth time of re-reading that tome-like legal management book here in the library. My eyes rolled at the back of my mind. <em>Oh come on, isn’t he ti—</em><strong>“Aren’t you tired of reading the same thing over again?” </strong>He said without sparing me a glance. <em>Such a bookworm. This is why I have the urge to be a book sometimes. </em>I shook my head and composed myself before putting up the book I’m holding so he could see it.</p><p><strong>“This. Is. Harry. Potter.” </strong>I said as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. <em>Look up! </em>I waved the book with a little bit of force in hopes that it may annoy him somehow.</p><p>But to no avail, his eyes only flitted to the other page and smiled faintly before responding. <strong>“My, you’re a nerd as much as I am.” </strong><em>Look at me!</em> <strong>“Here—” </strong>I heard him say as he pulled my book away and replace it with a new, and as huge as what he’s reading, scholarly book. I jutted out my lower lip for this treatment I’m getting. <em>I just want his attention! </em></p><p><strong>“It’s entitled, <em>‘Mathematics: Discovered or Invented?’</em>, surely it won’t bore a math wizard like you.” </strong><em>Reading you won’t bore a Metawin enthusiast like me. </em><strong>“Have you read this though?” </strong>I asked him as I scrutinize the big thing. <em>This is so thick! I would very much love to stare at this all day if this has your pictures on its pages, Win.</em> I’m interrupted with my thoughts when he snorted.</p><p><strong>“Why would I? Unlike you, I don’t fancy torturing my mind so, no. Now, read and be quite.” </strong>And then he went back to burying his nose to his book. <em>Books over me, tsk. </em>I quietly seethe in envy.<em> But let’s see hmm, this is not bad. It incorporates the history for each mathematical feats. Oh, wait—</em></p><p><strong>“This bit is cool, Brainiac! And oh, this has some Greek stuff that you love to chatter on about too! Aha, did you know that the existence of Polybius Square made—”</strong> <em>it easier for creating effective signals. </em>I stopped midway. He fell asleep. And it’s such a sight.</p><p>I looked around before setting up my book to cover us two to some prying eyes as I lay my head down on the table too. So that I could freely stare at him with all my heart’s content. <em>If you’d listened earlier, Brainiac, you’d know that</em> <em>it’s also called a ‘knock code’ that helped some of the prisoners of the past to escape. </em>A strand of his hair went near his nose. <em>But, it’s odd though. It did the opposite for me. </em>I wanted to brush it off. <em>Instead of escaping, I found out that—</em>I reached out my hand to do it but I halted because of the fear that creeped inside me again—<em>my heart has been locked—</em>I took too long to decide for he already opened his eyes—<em>and you are its key. </em></p><p>My indecisiveness caused me to ruffle his hair. A move that effectively masked my real intentions. And I despise it as much as I despise myself. <strong>“Your drooling made the texts of the book you slept on to be incomprehensible, that it’s barely salvageable. <em>You can’t read it anymore.” </em></strong>The only answer I got was his controlled giggle. A sign of ignorance of what he really is for me. <strong>“That’s good for me then! I monopolized the knowledge it has! Isn’t it cooler?” </strong>He said while laughing and I just nod my head in agreement. Yes, that’s good.</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Except for you, no one has the right to know.</em>
</p><hr/><p>I did try to convey it through the ways I know of, or the ways that I can only understand. Hoping you might get what I’m hinting. Sadly, it’s a lost cause. Though, there are times I thought you did, I just shrugged it off thinking it’s impossible for you to like me when you stated from the very beginning there’s no chance for it to happen.</p><p> </p><p>Before.</p><hr/><p>Win is impatient. And I’m a sucker for his annoyed face. So I purposely slowed down fumbling through the lock of my locker as I wait until he crack.</p><p>
  <em>Any minute now.</em>
</p><p>I’m at my 20th try of faking that I’m having a hard time when I heard him sigh before he lightly pushed me to the side. <em>There you go</em>. <strong>“What’s your passcode?”</strong> He drawled out all the while throwing me an irritated look. </p><p><em>Then there goes my heart. </em><strong>“<em>522433</em>.” </strong>I chokingly muttered. I choked because I can’t handle his beauty.<em> Ah damn it! Fucking fantasies. Fucking butterflies. </em></p><p><em>Fucking—</em><strong>“And what’s with that?”</strong><em>—feelings.</em> <strong>“That’s the every beat of my heart.” </strong>I said without a doubt. As I look at him in the eyes, I found myself agreeing to what he will reply to me a moment later.</p><p>Because, really.</p><p>
  <em>Win.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>“Ha funny. There’s nothing like that tss.”  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>There’s no one like you. </em>
</p><hr/><p>I’d like to not torture my mind for another would be of mine when I can always make it probable so, here I am risking it all as I write. My what if, a simple question:</p><p>What about today you change your mind?</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Do I like someone?</em>
</p><p>I travel my gaze to a reading Win who’s tuck sitting in the corner.</p><p>
  <em>No.</em>
</p><p>He’s so focused that he didn’t see me sneaking up behind his back.</p><p>
  <em>Do I love someone?</em>
</p><p>My original plan was to surprise him but upon seeing his notes, especially that one isolated phrase from the bunch, stopped me from doing so.</p><p>
  <em>Yes.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>“Literature Class, make essay. Topic: Treasure. My treasures: Family, Friends, Nikko, and Nikko’s other dad that I—scribbles—hate.”</em> </strong>
</p><p><em>Apparently, it’s not mutual. </em>I smiled. <em>Well, at least I get to be separated from the rest. That counts as something…right? </em></p><p><strong>“Bright, my man! Be honest! Don’t you have feelings for anyone?” </strong>Urged by Gunsmile to my side. <em>I have, </em>I wanted to say. But I kept my mouth shut as Mike chimed in. <strong>“Yeah, right! Just admit it to us, the girls already left!” </strong>With this, I glanced at the back of those girls who are walking away. I let my eyes lingered there for a while.</p><p>
  <em>They said it. They like me.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>“I love numbers.”</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>But I’m not them.</em>
</p><p>My admittance made: Love and Gun exchange unsurprised looks, Gunsmile showing me how he’s unamused by squinting his eyes, and Mike to deadpan, <strong>“Typical, Bright Vachirawit.”</strong></p><p>
  <em>I am Bright Vachirawit.</em>
</p><p>Gun seems pissed.<strong> “Fine, then. Can you tell us what exactly are those <em>‘numbers’</em> that you oh-so-love?” </strong>I ignored the question hence I nudged Win. <em>I don’t want them to know</em>. <strong> “Aren’t you going to ask me too, bf?” </strong>Win sighed, as if he’s had enough of my bullshit. <em>Who wouldn’t? Even I am tired of myself.</em></p><p>
  <strong>“As if you’re really gonna spill anything…”</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>But, I promised that you will be the first one to know.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>“I love, <em>522433.</em>”</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>You are the first one to know.</em>
</p><hr/><p>Now that I let you remember who you are to me.</p><p>You’re Nikko. You’re Math. You’re Harry Potter. You’re simply my Metawin.</p><p>Yes, you’re the one that I love.</p><p>More than my cat, my favorite subject, and my favorite book series.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>“Do you love the <em>rain</em>?”</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>“I love the <em>sun</em>.”</strong>
</p><p>Hearing that from him made me sigh internally. <em>Sometimes, I want to be the sun. </em><strong>“That didn’t answer my question though.” </strong>I huffed but he continued to play with the little droplets from the roof of this shed we’re currently making use of as our own shield to the pouring rain. <em>Timing.</em></p><p>The rain is sad.</p><p>But I can’t relate as I reel in the sight of Win. <em>Hey there, are you aware? You have the most perfect facial structure I’ve come across. </em><strong>“It did. You’re just not <em>reading</em> into it more.” </strong><em>And you have the most pure heart in existence. And—wait, is that a?</em></p><p><strong>“I’m sorry, what did you say again?” </strong>I apologized, the small littered box on the other side of the road distracted me. <strong>“And not listening intently too. Great.” </strong>He sardonically said. I winced.</p><p><strong>“Sorry, it’s just…look at that cat, bf!” </strong>I pointed at the box, right on time the mewling cat showed up. I saw Win getting emotional in the corner of my eye. <em>See? Purest. </em><strong>“Poor little one. I bet he’s abandoned.”</strong></p><p><em>I bet he wants to take him home. </em><strong>“Do you want him?” </strong>I told him as I put down my bag. He’s taken aback with this. <strong>“I, yes, why’d you ask?” </strong>Instead of answering him, I started to fold the sleeves of my uniform.<strong> “Wait for me here, bf. I’ll be quick.” </strong>Then my pants next until it reached my calf. Readying myself to storm in the rain.</p><p><strong>“Hey, don’t go! We don’t have an umbrella here!” </strong>I detect the confusion on his tone. It’s like he wanted to ask why I am doing this. So I turned towards him. <strong>“Why? Don’t you like him?” </strong>I looked at him in the eyes as I await his reply. <strong>“I like the cat, okay? But, you’ll get sick!” </strong>Here, I detect concern. <em>Sweet. </em>I patted his head and whispered, <strong>“As long as you like him”</strong>, <em>as long as it’s for you,</em> before I ran to get the cat.</p><p>The rain is bad.</p><p><strong>“What? Hey—” </strong>He yelled. But I can’t comprehend what he’s saying, the rain makes it hard for me to hear. When I successfully crossed the street, I carefully lifted the box where the cat is, and hugged it tightly. Once I went back to Win, I beamingly present it to him like a child. <strong>“Look, he’s cute!” </strong>I excitingly said but I guess he’s still upset with my stunt for he only, very briefly, glanced at the cat.</p><p><strong>“I don’t know Bright, I swear to God, if you’ll start coughing…never mind.” </strong>Now it’s my turn to be taken aback. <em>Careful, if you keep it up—</em>I smiled at him as he pet the cat—<em>I might fall for you harder. </em><strong>“Don’t you sulk now, he’s worth it! And he’s all yours!” </strong><em>Take him. </em>Win lightly shook his head. <strong>“Huh? No, you got him so he’s yours!” </strong><em>But you clearly want him too! </em>I think for a while before coming up with an answer.</p><p><strong>“Ours then.” </strong>I countered and that shuts him up. <em>And are the tip of his ears reddening? </em>Thoughts aside, I urged him some more. <strong>“Come on, name him!” </strong>I noticed him gripping the hem of his shirt. <em>Is he… shy? </em></p><p>Win flicked his eyes from me down to the cat. <strong>“Fine, if you insist, I want to call him hmm—Nikko.” </strong><em>Nikko. Oh? </em><strong>“Sunshine, huh. May I know why?” </strong><em>Of all names why that? </em>Curious, I raised one brow at him. <strong>“I told you—”</strong>, Win started after pulling the cat outside the box, <strong>“—I love the <em>sun</em>.” </strong>Ending it with what he already said earlier. Baffled, I put my hands inside the pockets of my pants.</p><p><strong>“Eh? We got him today when it’s raining...” </strong> <em>Sometimes, I want to take a look on what’s in his mind. </em></p><p>He played with the cat’s paws as he uttered, <strong>“And <em>you</em> got him. It’s only fitting, don’t you think?” </strong><em>Wait, make that every time because, yeah, </em><strong>“I don’t…understand.” </strong><em>I wanted to. </em></p><p>My hands are fidgeting. And I got antsy when he stared up at me with the cat. <strong>“You don’t need to. You just have to <em>feel</em> it.” </strong>I’m drawn to his eyes. But he swiftly switched his attention and lifted up Nikko.</p><p><em>I don’t understand. </em><strong>“Right, Nikko? You love your name don’t you? Yes? Tell that rain lover here you do!” </strong>In awe with him cooing, I muted my loud bothering thoughts. <em>Maybe later I would. </em></p><p><strong>“Tss. Someday you’ll love it too.” </strong><em>Me</em>, that is. <strong>“Who says I don’t?” </strong><em>Love? Me?</em> Kidding, it’s the <em>rain</em>, of course. <em>Not you, Bright. </em>I don’t want to hope<em>. </em><strong>“Oh have you mentioned it?” </strong>Okay maybe, a little? <em>No, reality check, Bright. Yeah.</em> <strong>“Again, some things are best to be felt, bf.” </strong>He said and then he put Nikko inside the box. Playtime’s over.</p><p><em>For Nikko. But as for me—</em><strong>“Yeah? Feel it, you say. But two is always better than one right?”—</strong><em>it’s only beginning. </em>Win straightened his crumpled uniform. <strong>“Depends on the context. But, yes? I guess.” </strong>I just hummed in response and settled the box where Nikko is now sleeping on beside our moist bags.</p><p><strong> “Then it’s probably better to <em>feel</em> it together—” </strong> <em>And my kind of fun begins! </em></p><p>The rain is mad.</p><p>But it is when it’s mad that we got to feel the cold, and once it sunk in the skin, only then we will realize it is real. That this is happening: Me and him. Splashing water on each other’s faces, dodging by running in circles, catching—catching our breaths.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Feel it, Win?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“Okay, let’s stop now! Ha, look the <em>rain</em> stopped already!”</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>It can’t stop.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“It still won’t stop me from getting you.”</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I won’t stop.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“Ah, get away! I’ve had enough of the <em>rain</em>! Okay—”</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>These feelings.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>I looked up just to see if he’s right. He is.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>The rain stopped to let the sun shine.</em>
</p><hr/><p>This is everything I didn’t say, the summarized version because if I’m to write the rest then I won’t be able to prepare for my surprise to you here in our place! I hope you’ll like it even if I haven’t bought you your desired gift. Fear not, I got you something better.</p><p>My words.</p><p>I’m true to my words, you know that. Someday, you will hear it, in the front stage, surrounded by our waiting enthused loved ones, while we walk towards each other, forwarding afterwards to where we’ll meet our end. Us being together. </p><hr/><p>It’s midnight.</p><p>And we’re midway on our 4th movie when Win broke the comfortable silence that surrounds us.<strong> “Isn’t something missing?” </strong>I turned to him. <strong>“What?” </strong>Confused, I grabbed some popcorn from his bowl.</p><p><strong>“Not once did Hermione and Ron dance together.” </strong><em>Oh. Are we on that part already?</em> <strong>“Well, she’s all over Krum.” </strong>Good thing I remembered what happened due to my innumerable re-readings of this book that I memorized all its parts.</p><p>Win swatted my hand when he noticed that I grabbed more than a mouthful of popcorn before he continued his argument. <strong>“She’s not, I quote, ‘fraternizing with the enemy!’ bf.” </strong>Uninterested, I just went along with the flow. <strong>“Hmm I don’t know. They didn’t dance then so what? It’s not as if it will change what Ron has done.” </strong><em>Why are we suddenly going through this topic again? </em>I pouted when Win blocked his bowl out of my reach.</p><p><strong>“I agree. He kind of ruined the chance for himself though. What I don’t get is his reason for doing that to her.” </strong>He irritatingly said as he pulled up another bowl of popcorn and gave it to me afterwards. I perked up, thinking to get serious now I have my reward. <strong>“Maybe because he can’t take the sight of Hermione with someone else?” </strong><em>Wait am I talking about myself here? </em>I gently dropped my own share of a bowl of popcorn on my lap.</p><p>My forehead formed a knot at that mere thought. Win peeled his eyes from the television to look at my way. <strong>“Maybe. But still, how could he do that? He could’ve <em>asked</em> her.” </strong>After he said this we fell in complete silence, only the noises from the movie are heard, signaling the end of our conversation, but not the voices inside my head. Battling. <em>To ask or not? </em>It’s there, at the tip of my tongue, waiting, but I pushed it back in. For I remembered, there’s no need to ask anymore. He’s got a date and it’s not me.</p><p>I don’t want to be like Ron. <strong>“Yeah. How could he, right?” </strong></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>How could he ask when he’s in love with his best friend?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“Perhaps, it’s more than just that petty reason.”</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Perhaps, he’s too in love, that’s why.</em>
</p><hr/><p>And if tomorrow you considered changing your mind, would you forget who am I to you before and start anew?</p><p> </p><p>P.S. Your name’s on this one so this is yours.</p><p>P.P.S. Like I am yours.</p><p> </p><p>With every beat of my heart,</p><p>Your noob, your best friend, your Bright.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>“Hey, alright there <em>Titan?</em>”</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>“Oh would you stop using Gun’s pet name for me! But yep. I’m just waiting to board actually.”</strong>
</p><p>I’m leaving. So here I am at the airport. Dilly-dallying. Trying to come up with a good excuse as to why my sorry ass can’t confess. <em>Even for the last time. </em>Simba snorted over the phone. <strong>“Why? It’s cute. It suits you, pfft. Well, okay we’ll wait for you here—” </strong><em>Is that Bright, Singto? Son, what do you want? What—</em><strong>“Hey, please calm my mom for me.” </strong>I smiled at my mom’s rambling. She’s fairly excited. I wish to have that enthusiasm.</p><p><strong>“Will do! By the way, did your friends send you off?” </strong>He asked. <strong>“Yeah but they already left.” </strong>I said while tying my loose shoelaces. <strong>“Even Win?” </strong>With this I momentarily paused to look at Win who’s buying a drink from a stall across where I’m situated at. <strong>“He’s <em>here</em> with me.” </strong>Simba hummed. I continued what I’m doing as I let him talk.</p><p>He cleared his throat first before saying, <strong>“Uh, hey Titan, listen.” </strong>That I replied with, <strong>“Singto Prachaya, I told you, stop it!”</strong> in annoyance. <em>Great, I’m back to square one! </em>I pulled the strings off my shoes to redo tying them on. <strong>“Do you remember what I left back there before I went here in California?” </strong><em>Really, now? </em><strong>“What? Your childhood home?” </strong>I huffed. I can imagine him rolling his eyes at me. <strong>“Gods, no!” </strong></p><p><strong>“Well, I can’t think of anything of importance other than your most prized books and cameras!” </strong><em>Besides, I have no time to take a walk at my memory lane! </em><strong>“It’s not it, silly!” </strong>He exasperatingly said. <strong>“Then what?” </strong>I finished tying with a knot but Simba’s still not answering back. <strong>“Regrets.”</strong></p><p><em>Regrets. </em>It rings a bell. <strong>“I left it there the day I told Gun that I liked him. Honestly, I didn’t know what’s gotten into me. I just…did it. Out of fear maybe? Oh come to think of it, I got the courage to confess to him from the same fear that held me back on doing so—man, it’s quite ironic!” </strong>I heaved out a courtesy laugh because that’s what I think is appropriate to do, given that what he said is slowly affecting me too.</p><p>It’s making me nauseous. <strong>“Nevertheless, I’m glad. Sure I’m rejected, but now I’m contented. Because I’m free from what constrained me of taking a chance again to find my own <em>happiness</em>.” </strong></p><p>
  <em>Do I have to stay to be happy?</em>
</p><p><strong>“What made you blurt this out of nowhere?” </strong>I looked at Win who’s patiently waiting for his order at the side, drumming his fingers; he must’ve felt my staring so he mouthed <em>‘what?’</em> that I only shook my head in response.</p><p>Win just curtly smiled at my action.<strong> “We grew up together cousin. <em>I know</em>.” </strong></p><p>
  <em>No, Bright.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>“That’s why, I’m telling you this. I want you to choose.”</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>You just have to say it.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>“Would you rather <em>hold on</em> to your feelings or would you <em>let</em> it <em>go</em>?”</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>But I’m too in love to say I love you.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>And as Simba cut our call and as Win materialized himself in front of me, I find myself unable to do it. When my flight’s announced and I stood up to seize my time to hug him, I relished to the warmth I will forever yearn for. Then after uttering our goodbyes, I slowly walked away contemplating my resolve.</p><p>That is to go back.</p><p>With my mind unsure, heart heavy, and soul aching—I went back to let go of my feelings and hold the hand of the man I love.</p><p> </p><p>But there’s no hand for me to hold any longer.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>You might be wondering why is the chapter title, "Of Meeting At Last" if there's no meet up that happened but it's just the irony of it really. Their feelings met but they didn't. It is what it is jk. Thank you for reading regardless! -Yra</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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